Along Came an Enigma
by TwistingVisions
Summary: AU. Punk. An aggressive, holier than thou, straight edge smart ass. Jeff. An ex drug addict, broken, and scared individual. Can these two different personalities possibly coexist when all they seem to have in common is insanity? Only time can tell.
1. The Mind

_**Along Came an Enigma**_

**A.N. - Hey everyone, TwistingVisions here. I really really really hope you like this story. I've had this muse for a while, so, here goes nothing! Please feel free to review and let me know what you think so far. ^^; I usually update sporadically, so let's see how this goes!**

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_He was there again. In darkness. Nothing but darkness and a faint noise surrounded his unconscious mind. What the noise was, he had absolutely no idea, and maybe he would be better off not knowing. He knew he was unconscious. How, you ask? Because he could still see his body as clear as day, despite being surrounded by nothing but a thick, heavy blackness. Despite this current state, this was nothing new to him. This was his reoccurring dream, which he had been having ever since he was a small boy. For what reason, he did not know. Maybe it was his mind's way of escaping his hell of a life, or an escape from the 'normal' state his mind was in when he was awake. After a while of floating in the dark, the usual burst of light flooded his unconscious vision, signaling that it was time to awaken. _

Philip Brooks, more so known around the ward as Punk (conveniently so), inhaled sharply, groaned viciously, and pulled the covers over his eyes, just as he did each morning when he was rudely awoken by the familiar blast of light, which was always flipped on by the same nurse. See, Punk had made a vow when he was very young that he would never hit women. Although recently, he had seriously been tempted to make an exception for this hag, who not only drug his mind from a blissful unconscious state each day, but always seemed to want to piss him off by calling the young man by his birth name, which he absolutely loathed.

"Philip! Time to get your ass out of bed. I would like to avoid a pointless confrontation with you today, if at all possible," the nurse screeched while incessantly flipping the lights on and off.

Punk was one of the patients known around the ward for his smart ass behavior and short temper, which did not mix well with most of the staff. Letting out a loud hiss, he violently threw the thin covers from his body and onto the cold wooden floor. As he quickly sat up in nothing but a pair of gray plaid pajama pants, his dangerously dark, olive eyes locked with the bored brown ones of the hag, who was standing next to the light switch with an apathetic expression on her wrinkled face. His olive eyes sent imaginary daggers through the nurse's mind as he reached up to fix his not quite shoulder length black hair, which was still frizzy from rolling around in his sleep.

"If you truly wish to avoid confrontation today, I feel as if my ass would be much better if it were kept warm, in this here bed," Punk spat as he rolled his eyes. The young male reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his lip ring, which he was forced to take out every night, and promptly placed it back where it belonged; on his lip.

The nurse rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, I bet you would like that, wouldn't you, Phil?"

Oh, that was it. He was tired of this shit. He stood abruptly and, in the blink of an eye, was across the white room to the door, where he promptly slammed his hand on the wall about six inches away from the hag's ear, smirking when the loud bang caused the nurse's eyes to widen considerably.

"Listen, bitch," snarled Punk, leaning closely so his lips were almost against the woman's ear. "I'm really not in the mood for your stupidity today. So, if you would like to avoid dying a slow and painful death, which I can arrange with help from some others, I suggest you get out of here so I can get ready on my own time. Are we clear?"

This nurse, not one to be easily intimidated, tried with all of her remaining confidence to appear unfazed. Little did she know, that the crazy tattooed man in front of her could smell her fear from a mile away, which only drove him further into what was considered a full blown God complex. Punk wanted and needed control over everyone who crossed his path, needed to be better then them. In his mind, he was. He was straight edge, after all.

"Get out of my sight," he ordered. "I'll be out when I want."

The nurse looked as if she was ready to retort, but thought better of it when she noticed Punk's eyes darken significantly. So, instead, she sent a smug smirk his way, then slipped out the door quickly.

Satisfied with the turn of events, said tattooed male let out a satisfied, almost sinister laugh as he shook his head and headed into the small room's bathroom, more than ready for a shower. It wasn't even the feeling of being dirty that made showers something that Punk loved. It was his time to think. The only time where the sound of the flowing water helped his mind settle and he could have a bit of peace.

The straight edge young man quickly stripped and walked into the small shower, immediately running the scalding hot water. A sense of peace quickly overtook his normally stressed out mind and body. As the water began to run cold, his mind started to wander to a not so pleasant place like it always did at this time. It was the world of flashbacks and future nightmares from his previous outside life. And, just like always, he let the memories flood his mind. It was his form of punishment to himself. He deserved every horrid memory he saw.

Deciding that he had enough when he noticed that his fingers were going numb from the freezing water, Punk quickly shampooed his dark hair and shut off the water, his mind still racing. His now glazed olive eyes glanced down at his fingers, which were shaking along with the rest of his body. Yeah, he should have stayed in bed today. Already, he could tell that this day was going to suck, major.

Shaking his head with a small scowl on his face, Punk stepped out of the shower and dried off his body, leaving his hair to air dry. He slipped on some clean boxers and then a pair of black and red plaid pajama pants, along with a black muscle shirt. He didn't see the point on dressing up in jeans and a regular t-shirt everyday. They were constricting, plus he wasn't allowed out of the damn hospital, so why would he consider wearing normal clothes? He wasn't normal. No one here was.

Punk sighed heavily as he trudged his way back into the small room past the second bed. He never got why he had been given a room with two beds. It wasn't like the doctors were stupid enough to give him a roommate after what happened last time they tried. Now _that_ had been a disaster which almost ended in a bloodbath and did end in deep psychological scarring for the other man caused by yours truly. Punk chuckled mirthlessly at the fond memory, slightly hoping that someday, he could possibly repeat the actions of that time. He had been needing an outlet.

Throwing last night's pajamas into the basket on the floor, he slipped on a pair of sandals that the hospital gave him and lazily trudged out into the main hallway. He had a therapy session this morning and he was late, but he really didn't give a damn. It's not like they could punish him in any effective way that they hadn't already tried. It would end in futility, and Punk made sure all of the doctors that had dared cross his path knew that.

As of now, the young, raven haired male was slowly making his way to said therapy session, dreading what sort of topic that the group may be covering today. He was half way to the room when he heard hushed voices coming from inside the nurse's station. For the sake of stalling his arrival at the session, he slowed his pace considerably, trying his best to listen in to the conversation.

"He's coming in sometime today I heard."

"You mean the new boy? The one that they said was.."

"Yes, that's the kid. Poor boy. Did you hear who they might make him room with?"

The two voices went silent for a minute before Punk heard one of them speak up again.

"You don't mean... him? They're thinking on rooming him with..."

"The one and only. They think it might be good for the guy. With all his anger issues and whatnot."

"But.. Don't they remember the last time they tried to put someone in a room with him?"

"That's what I tried to bring up, but they wouldn't let me. They think it may be good for him, maybe even simmer him down a bit. This new kid is a special case."

"I highly doubt that."

That was all Punk needed to hear. With a large scowl on his face and his fists clenched almost to the point of his fingernails drawing blood from his palms, said male stormed the rest of the way down the hall and stomped to a halt in front of the clear glass door in front of the therapy room. If he had heard correctly, and he always did, what he had overheard was a plan set in motion to try and get someone to room with him. He was **not** fond of the idea, at all. Knowing the staff of doctors, which of the majority hated his guts, the new kid they were talking about would be someone as equally angry and pissed off at the world as he was. The kid may even have a 'holier than thou' complex, as he himself did most of the time.

Punk shook his head and let out a few labored breaths, trying to get his mind and growing anger under control before he would go in and sit with the rest of the group. After a minute, he forcefully swung open the glass door, causing all eyes to fall on him. He smirked widely, loving the attention as he glanced around at the familiar faces in the room.

His olive eyes first fell on, who he would consider his best friend in this place, a man by the name of Kofi Kingston, who was currently, as always, curled up in the corner. The African American man had long, stringy hair that reached down to his shoulders and was adorned in white clothes, which made his skin appear even darker than it normally appeared.

Punk's eyes then drifted over to the circle of chairs in the center of the room, which were vacated by other men. The first man his eyes fell upon, he couldn't miss. An almost gigantic Irishman, who's skin was so white one would think the man could blend in to the wall. Sheamus, as he was known, had fiery, spiked up red hair. Punk also considered this man as an equally close friend, for the Irishman was also known for having anger management issues and had the same views as he did on most subjects. Although the red head was known for almost barbaric actions most of the time, Punk was known for stealthy and psychological torture. They both complimented each other very very well in the long run, and that was their bond. Violence and manipulation.

Another man sat next to Sheamus, a man not as big big, but was definitely not to be underestimated. The man's name... Randy Orton, yet another patient known for not only anger, but for a certain type of cunning anger, ranging on the border of multiple personality disorder. The man had sleeve tattoos that were hardly noticeable against his deep, tanned skin. It was said that behind the man's onyx eyes, there were voices. Voices that caused the normally gentle man to suddenly snap multiple times, with no reason. Because of his quick reactions and venomous nature, he was conveniently nicknamed The Viper. Some have said that when angered, Orton would let out an insane hiss, which resembled a viper. None of the other patients had heard it with their own ears, but everyone always heard multiple doctors talking about The Viper's hissing.

Now, what made Punk smirk in amusement were the two young kids who were cowering behind Randy. Little Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase. They were known as Randy's bitches around the hospital, always hiding behind the larger man and doing his bidding. Punk always loved messing with their minds, which were so easily molded and twisted by his powerful words. While Ted was dirty blond and sometimes defiant, Cody was a brunette and totally under Randy's influence. They were sweet enough boys, but their dull minds easily made them puppets to everyone's whims.

And finally, out of this small group of men and boys, sat the last of them. Darkening olive eyes met the equally darkening blue eyes of a short haired brunette. The man's name... John Cena. John freaking Cena. See, this man was the favorite of all the doctors. He never got in trouble, and he would manage to suck up to every single person in authority. If one were to see how the large, muscular man acted, they would always ask themselves why he was in a place like this. Well, Punk knew the answer to _that._ Cena was known among the other patients as more of a thug. He would verbally insult the patients he didn't like using freestyle rapping. Punk would always laugh and do a little, what he liked to call pipe bomb, of his own, which would always stop the larger man's rampage. Needless to say, Cena and Punk _never_ got along, in fact, they absolutely loathed each other.

Deciding to keep the smirk on his pierced lips, Punk nodded his greeting to everyone, tearing his eyes away from Cena's as he made his way over to his usual spot next to Kofi in the corner. The tattooed man plopped down next to the African native, his smug smirk turning into more of a smooth smile as he crossed his legs. He and Kofi never got in trouble for not paying attention during the session, mostly because they were more each others' therapists. Plus the two got along so well that no one dared interrupt them.

"Hey there, Mr. Kofi Kingston," he said, just above a whisper as not to startle the disturbed man. "Anything new today?"

Kofi slowly lifted his head from his curled up position and let a small smile stretch his lips as he recognized his best friend's face. "H-Hey Phil," he slowly let out. "N-Nothing new to r-report."

Instead of becoming extremely upset and going on a tirade and table flipping frenzy, Punk just let his smile grow. Kofi was one of the few human beings alive besides his family that he allowed to call him by his birth name. The poor man was a special case, and Punk was just happy that he was the only person that Kofi would recognize everyday without a reminder of some sort. If he were to be perfectly honest, he truly thought the world of the African American man. The doctors said that Punk was the first person to ever fully reach Kofi's mind, and that was something special.

Punk slowly lifted his tattooed hand to rest on top of his friend's dark, non-inked hand, making sure Kofi saw his hand first. "Anything happen I should know about? Are they treating you better yet?"

That caused the darker man to tense up a little bit, which Punk could feel. He instantly regretted asking that question, because the obvious answer was no. His eyes filled with a mix of hatred and sadness as he let out a long sigh.

"Kofi, man, I told you to always come and get me when that shit starts. You can't let this keep happening." He paused a minute before continuing, his heart heavy. "I can't lose you again, man. How am I supposed to protect you when you don't come to me?"

Small tears made their way down Kofi's cheeks as he listened to Punk's words. He always carried that day around with him in his mind. He had felt horrible for letting Punk down, and he would always blame himself.

"I-I'm s-sorry.." he squeaked out. "I d-didn't m-mean t-to.."

Punk would have none of that. Letting out a worried sigh, he softly wiped away the tears streaming down his best friend's cheeks, then proceeded to wrap his arms around Kofi's frame.

"Don't go there, Kofi. Don't start blaming yourself again." He dared not speak above a whisper as he rubbed Kofi's back gently. "It was **not **your fault, do you understand me?"

As he felt the other nod, Punk couldn't help the bubbling anger begin to rise in himself again. Some of the things they put Kofi through at this place just made his blood boil. He had tried multiple times to get the doctors responsible fired, but there was never any proof. Damn, did that royally piss him off.

Punk took a long breath before unwrapping his arms from Kofi's shoulders. "Kofi... Look at me."

When Kofi didn't respond, Punk tilted his own head before lifting Kofi's chin with his index finger gently. "It's going to be alright, I promise. As long as you tell me when it happens, I'll keep you safe. Okay?"

Kofi let a small, sad smile adorn his features as he quickly nodded to Punk's statement. "O-Okay. Th-thank you.."

"Nah, don't mention it buddy. We're best friends forever, right?"

"Y-Yeah... f-forever.."

As soon as things seemed to be settling down, both men flinched at the sound of loud crashing. While Kofi just curled up into a ball and hid his face, Punk searched for the origin of the sound. He then noticed that the large table in the room had been flipped over and shoved against the wall. Standing over that table was none other than Sheamus, his wild blue eyes wide, his teeth gritted, his breathing heavy, and his face almost as red as his hair. To top everything all off, he was staring directly at...

Randy.

_Oh great, _this _is gunna be good_, Punk thought sarcastically. He protectively wrapped his arms around Kofi, trying to convey some sort of peace to the troubled man. He just hoped this would end soon. He really didn't feel like making them apologize for disturbing Kofi. Again.

"I swear, if ya value yer life, fella, then I'd appreciate if ya stopped starin at me!" Sheamus roared.

That just made Randy cackle. "And what if I don't, great white? You gunna come and rip the eyes out of my head?"

"I just might, snake!"

"Oh, I'd absolutely **love **to see you try."

"I don't have ta try, fella. It'd be the easiest thing in the world ta do."

As he felt Kofi begin shaking horribly, Punk decided not to stand for this shit today. He already had a horrible start to the day, he really didn't need this too. He quickly patted Kofi's shoulder and stood up, abruptly making his way over to the scuffle and placing himself in between Sheamus and Randy.

"Hey! Both of you better knock it off! You're upsetting Kofi, for Christ's sake! And I had JUST gotten him to have a good start to the day!"

There was a dead silence before soft, muffled sobs could be heard. Everyone in the room, including the now terrified therapist, cast a glance to the curled up form of Kofi in the corner. Said African American was shaking terribly, his head buried in his knees, with his arms covering his head. The sight would have instantly calmed anyone down, and it did. Even Sheamus's angry face had softened significantly.

Punk glanced towards his best friend in the corner, then up to the huge Irishman standing in front of him. "Sheamo," he whispered affectionately. "Kofi's fragile, you **have **to remember that. Besides." He cast an anger-filled glance towards the Viper. "Orton's not worth anything. Even his family thinks so."

If it weren't for Kofi's muffled cries, Punk would have guessed that the Viper would have jumped him right then and there. Those shifty, venomous eyes confirmed Punk's thoughts. Smirking smugly at Randy, Punk quickly grabbed Sheamus's hand and drug him away from the scene and over to Kofi. He knew the large Irishman had anger problems, but when he burst out every morning, it got more annoying than alarming.

Letting go of Sheamus's hand, Punk quickly plopped down next to Kofi once more, sitting cross legged and wrapping an arm around the crying man's shoulders once more.

"Kofi..?" Punk whispered. "C'mon man, it's all fine now. It's all over. Sheamus even came over to apologize, see?" He gently lifted Kofi's arms, which the darker man was still using to shield his head, along with Kofi's chin. "This big lug here didn't mean anything. He's harmless."

Sheamus knelt down in front of Kofi, his sparkling blue eyes meeting Kofi's swollen brown eyes. Despite his barbaric nature, the large man had one of the biggest hearts anyone could imagine, although he only allowed Punk and Kofi to ever see that side of him.

"Oi, fella," Sheamus whispered. "I feel horrible. I didn't mean ta scare ya. Orton was just gettin

under me skin. Do ya forgive me?"

Kofi just stared silently at Sheamus for a good minute before letting a timid smile come onto his face. He nodded slowly, never breaking the eye contact.

Sheamus smiled heartily at this. He leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to the smaller man's forehead as a sign of gratefulness. "Ah, you're the best, fella."

Punk was smirking widely and enjoying the moment before he heard the room door open and close quickly. His olive eyes darkened as he noticed it was one of the doctors he had overheard talking in the office a bit earlier, his face instantly scowling. Doctor Helmsley was his name. He was huge, despite being a doctor. There were few patients who dared mess with him.

"Punk. Come with me. It's time to meet your new roommate."

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**A.N. - Dun dun dunnnnnn. Here we go, kids. More of everyone's pasts will be revealed throughout the story. As for poor Kofi, his condition and circumstances should be revealed soon, I promise. An important note, this story will mostly take place through Punk's point of view. Only when it fits will I show Jeff's. And I promise, we shall have our dear Jeffro in the next chapter. Oh, and one more thing. I'm having trouble coming up with a name for the hospital, so if anyone has any suggestions, feel free to PM me. Well, for now, _Asta la Pasta!_**


	2. It Only Hurts

_**Along Came an Enigma**_

**Greetings once again. I'm so sorry it took me this long to update. I feel absolutely horrible, guys. There have been life complications and issues that have kept me down, ranging through all sorts of sensitive topics that I'd rather not discuss. And guys, on the record, I _never _usually take this long to post a chapter. But, without further ado, here is Chapter 2. Hehe, that rhymed. Anyways, please remember to review with your thoughts and opinions! I want to make sure I'm doing okay.**

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_It was dark. The air was thick with the scent of medical drugs, sweat, and... was that blood? The boy shook his head, despite how much it hurt to do so. Groaning, he tried to sit up, but his movements were restrained. His eyes burst open as this fact came to life, his mind waking up from unconsciousness. His mind instantly began to panic, his breathing picking up immensely. The boy thrashed about as best he could, not caring that the restraints were rubbing his wrists and ankles raw. Wait... Hadn't he come in with long sleeves and long pants? He suddenly shivered from the cold that hit his... naked body... Oh god, he had to get out of here. He couldn't take this again. Not now. Not so soon after..._

"Hey... Jeffro. Come on man, it's almost time to go."

Jeffrey Nero Hardy gasped lightly and tensed up as he was dragged out of his thoughts by his brother Matt's soft voice. The rainbow haired boy brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them, shaking his head frantically, causing his red and blue locks to sway with the motion. He couldn't go back to one of those places. Not now. Not so soon.

"Jeff, bro, come on. It's okay. I'm right here."

Jeff glanced up at his older brother, his emerald eyes meeting Matt's brown ones. He knew that his brother meant well, but his mind didn't seem to care at the moment. He had been in and out of these places his whole life, and every time he thought that he'd finally be safe... He never was. They always somehow found him, and made... **him**... come out. Jeff didn't like him. He's the one that caused all of this. He's the one that caused the enemies to continuously hunt Jeff down.

The rainbow haired teen hadn't noticed that he was shaking again until he felt a soft hand on his cheek. Jeff looked up from where his face had once again become buried in his knees, his emerald eyes meeting what happened to be a pair of blue eyes this time. It took him a moment, but when he realized that the soft hand and pair of sparkling blue eyes belonged to Chris, he settled a bit. Christopher Irvine had been one of Jeff's best friends since Jeff had left home almost seven years ago. They had become close, despite the dangers of doing so in their past lifestyle.

Jeff took a chance to glance around the private waiting room at the only people the boy still held dear. Of course there was his brother Matt, and Jeff smiled the tiniest bit when he noticed that standing beside his brother was Matt's boyfriend, Evan. The short, brunette headed male was one of the sweetest human beings on the planet, and Jeff liked him a lot. Evan was one of the only people he could properly communicate with, and Jeff felt that Evan took pride in that. Jeff's emerald orbs then fell on his childhood friends, Adam, Jay, and Shannon. They were all blonds, believe it or not, just like himself. Adam and Jay had been dating on and off for around three years, and right now, they seemed to be together once again. Jeff was glad of that fact. Back in the day, he himself was sometimes a hopeless romantic, so he loved seeing two of his best friends together as a couple. He thought it was the cutest thing in the world. Shannon, on the other hand, was considered to be a free spirit. The short blond man couldn't be in a relationship for too long before he got restless, so he just decided to stay single, and Jeff didn't mind that idea one bit. Shannon was **way **more fun when he was single anyway.

Jeff's eyes then drifted back to Chris, who was still kneeling down in front of him. It was no secret to anyone but Jeff that the blond Canadian man was in love with the rainbow haired boy, and everyone felt sorry for him. Because of his past, everyone knew that Jeff was pretty much incapable of returning any love that Chris showed him. Jeff would always miss the subtle hints and mistake the close contact for friendship. Despite that fact, Chris kept on trying, hoping that one day, he would be the one to break through the barriers that surrounded Jeff's mind. No one was brave enough to tell him to stop in his pursuit and to remind him that it was futile, but that short leash was coming to an end as the others saw Chris's hope and happiness diminish day by day.

"Jeffrey Nero Hardy?"

Said boy inhaled sharply and stiffened his body once again at the unfamiliar voice before burying his face into his knees, shaking his head almost frantically.

Chris was just about to try and comfort Jeff and tell him it was only the doctor when Shannon took it upon himself to slide his way over and ruffle Jeff's red and blue locks with what appeared to be a happy look on his pierced face. "C'mon Jeffro! Get your sexy ass up and let's go show them the enigma that is yourself!"

After a moment of silence, everyone in the room visibly untensed as Jeff lifted his head from his knees, a small smile adorning his pierced lips.

_Well, leave it to Shannon to somehow brighten a shitty mood, _Matt thought with a smirk as he wrapped an arm around Evan's waist.

Now somewhat calmed down, Jeff sent Chris a soft, apologetic look for his earlier freak out. His emerald eyes drifted over to the doctor who had called his name moments ago. He looked nice enough, with calm blue eyes and dirty blond hair that was tied into a pony tail. Jeff turned his attention back to Chris, who was still kneeling in front of him. He placed a fingerless gloved hand on his friend's soft cheek, conveying that he was willing to go with the doctor. The boy slowly uncurled himself from the chair, standing up warily. He instantly turned around and reached towards Matt and Evan.

Both men rushed forward and each grabbed one of Jeff's gloved hands, which the boy, in turn, gripped tightly.

The doctor smiled a genuinely soft smile as Jeff slowly made his way across the waiting room and over to him. "You must be Jeffrey. I'm Doctor Michaels. It's a pleasure to meet you, son."

Jeff glanced up into Doctor Michaels's eyes quickly, trying to get a reading. The man seemed genuinely sweet enough, so he offered the doctor a weak grin.

When it was apparent that Dr. Michaels was waiting for a verbal response from Jeff, Matt decided to step in and take over. "Oh, you'll have to excuse him, doc. Jeff can't talk."

Dr. Michaels raised an eyebrow at that new information. He glanced at the chart in his hands, looking for anything that would indicate what was just said. When he couldn't find anything, he decided to keep that to himself, instead nodding and agreeing with Matt.

Jeff noticed a strange look in the doctor's blue eyes, and that confirmed his suspicions. The last place he had been sent to did indeed drop off the face of existence. The rainbow haired boy let out an inaudible sigh as he was led by the doctor out of the waiting room and down the hall, holding Matt's and Evan's hands all the while.

The group trudged on in silence, Dr. Michaels leading the way, followed closely by Jeff, Matt, and Evan. Chris and Shannon sauntered behind the trio, followed by Adam and Jay, who were holding hands tightly. Jeff noticed that the appearance of the hallway changed along the way. It changed from that of a hotel lobby to more of the all too familiar hospital look. He cringed inside, causing him to wrap his hands tighter around his brother and Evan.

After what seemed like countless minutes of absolute silence, everyone jumped as they heard a loud crash come from a short distance down the hall. Jeff froze in place, his body shaking and his feet refusing to move. He brought his sleeved arm up to his mouth, where he chewed at the white shirt nervously.

Dr. Michaels sighed in exasperation when he figured out the origin of the crash. "Sheamus," he mumbled to himself. He turned around and his face softened when he noticed Jeff. He smiled softly and then glanced over at Matt. "May I talk to you for a minute, if that's alright?"

Matt blinked and tried to make eye contact with Jeff. When he noticed that his baby brother's eyes were hiding behind the red and blue hair, he sent a worried look Evan's way.

The small brunette caught his boyfriend's look and smiled a bit. "You go ahead, babe. I'll talk to Jeffro. He'll be okay in a bit, I promise."

Matt couldn't help but convey a grateful grin to Evan. His boyfriend had been so supportive, ever since they started dating about a year ago. During the course of the first two months of their relationship, he had introduced Evan to Jeff, when Jeff had been in the last hospital. Matt always knew that Jeff could sense a good judge of character, because he saw his baby brother attach himself to Evan within only a week. And to add on top of how amazing Evan was, Matt found out that his boyfriend knew sign language. Evan then offered to teach Jeff, and _that_ was how they began communicating. His baby brother and his boyfriend had become almost inseparable ever since. Evan had offered to teach Matt, but he quickly refused. The older Hardy loved that his brother had a special bond with someone that wasn't himself, and he aimed to keep it that way.

Matt nodded to Dr. Michaels, who motioned to a little private spot down the hall. They settled into a small office off to the right side of the main therapy room, where the rest of the patients of this wing were having their first daily session.

"You are Jeffrey's brother, are you not?" Dr. Michaels asked as he took a seat behind a large ebony desk.

Matt, in turn, took a seat in one of the chairs that was placed in front of the desk. "Yes. I'm his older brother, Matt." He extended his hand to the Doctor, which the other readily took.

"Now, to the matter at hand, Mr. Hardy. I believe that you informed me that Jeffrey is not able to speak, is that correct?" The good doctor folded his hands atop of the large desk, his face filled with extreme concentration.

"Um, well yes, I did mention that." The older Hardy shifted in his seat nervously, wondering where Dr. Michaels was going with this.

"I may have some information that you would like to hear..."

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_-Just about 15 minutes later-_

Back out in the hallway, the rest of the group had found some chairs to sit on. Adam, Jay, and Chris were chatting lightly while Shannon watched Jeff and Evan curiously as they were having their own sign language conversation. The group turned their heads as they heard the footsteps of Matt and Dr. Michaels come back down the hall.

A gentle smile then graced Matt's lips as he noticed that Jeff still had the remnants of a lingering smile on his own pierced lips. The older Hardy then knew why. Evan always knew how to make Jeff feel better and more at ease, and he would always adore that side of his boyfriend.

Jeff grabbed Evan's hand and immediately jumped up, running into Matt's arms while still dragging a surprised Evan.

Matt let a small chuckle escape his lips as he wrapped his arms around the two most important men in his life. He kissed the top of their heads and he then looked at them from an arm's length. "Jeffro, it's time to go and meet your roommate," he said hesitantly.

The red and blue haired boy's face twisted with sadness at those words. He shook his head thoroughly and turned into Evan's unsuspecting arms, burying his face in the small brunette's neck.

Evan blinked and slowly wrapped his arms around Jeff's slightly larger frame. He comforted the boy awkwardly, as he felt all the other eyes on him. After a moment, he let go and held Jeff at arm's length. He then signed to Jeff : '_Don't worry, Jeffro. Trust your brother. You'll be safe here, I promise. Matt does his homework.'_

Jeff, in turn, signed back : _'I trust him, Evan... but... What if they come looking for me..? What if they find me here..?_

The small brunette gently grabbed Jeff's hands and shook his head. _'They won't find you here Jeff. If anything, Matt chose this place because he feels it will keep you safe. I promise we'll all come to visit as often as we can. Okay?'_

It took Jeff a minute to think it over before he nodded slowly. _'Okay... I'll do this... For you, Matty, and everyone else.'_

This made Evan smile widely. He quickly leaned up and kissed Jeff on the cheek affectionately, which earned him a small blush from the boy. He looked over to Matt and nodded his head. "Jeff said he's ready to go."

The older Hardy grinned as he reached for his brother's hand. He grasped Jeff's hand tightly as he turned to face Dr. Michaels. "Alright then, doc. Care to lead the way?"

Said doctor gave the group a soft look as he motioned down the hallway a ways. "Follow me. My associate is gathering Jeffrey's roommate. They should be out when we get down the hall."

Jeff huddled into Matt's side as all eight of them sauntered down the hallway that the doctor had taken Matt only minutes ago. To say he was nervous was a severe understatement. He was an absolute wreck inside. The only glimmer of hope he had was the sureness in his brother's deep brown eyes. Matty was never wrong with these things. He would be okay... What could possibly happen that hadn't already been done?

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**Alrighty everyone, I'm sorry that this chapter is shorter than the last one. I had a _really_ hard time writing this one, and I don't know why. I guess because I've had a lot of things going on in my head that kept me from concentrating. Anyways, I have sooo many ideas for this fic that my mind is in overload! I hope y'all stick with me through this! **


	3. Whisper

_**Along Came an Enigma**_

**Greetings once again everyone. This right here is more of a normal schedule for me. Once a week. I still feel horrible for taking so long to update last time, so now, I present all you lovely people with Chapter 3! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far: undertaker1465, Xenarocks99, TheGirlInThePinkScarf, JNHwwe, FaiteDeCicatrices, and TayTay4936. Oh, and to answer your question Tay, this will definitely be a slash fic. Because what's a story without some good Junk? :3 I hope y'all enjoy! Remember to review so I know I'm still doing okay.**

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"I don't want to."

Dr. Helmsley sighed and ran a hand down his face before running the same hand through his long golden locks of hair, wondering how much longer he could keep this up. "Just come willingly, Punk. You wouldn't want to force me to use a sedative on your drug free body, would you?"

Punk was currently sitting cross legged in the middle of the large therapy room, glaring daggers at the large doctor. He saw no point in meeting a new roommate when he could be in here helping Kofi, who was still a bit nerve wracked from Sheamus's earlier outburst. The raven haired male crossed his tattooed arms over his chest, almost seeming to pout.

"There's no point, doc. You know the outcome of this. I'll either scare him away or kill him. Simple as that," Punk said defiantly. "And seeing as how I killed the last two bastards, I think you should show this kid some mercy and just let him room with Kofi."

"That's the problem, _Phillip_," Dr. Helmsley drawled, hiding a smirk when he saw Punk visibly cringe. "The boy is too similar to Kofi. They wouldn't do each other any good."

"So what, you're saying that _I'd_ be a better influence on him? C'mon, doc. Don't you even remember why I'm in here? If the kid is as messed up from drugs and shit as you say, then odds are you'll find him dead by tonight."

"He's an **ex **addict, Punk. Besides, the boy's been through more than you or anyone else would know." The large doctor shook his head and ignored Punk's scoff and the words _'I doubt that'_ as he continued. "And I never said you'd be a better influence on him. I meant that the poor boy can't talk or stick up for himself, and you're the only person in this whole damn building who knows sign language." Dr. Helmsley had heard his colleague Dr. Michaels report through the walkie that the poor kid couldn't talk. All the more reason to try this with Phillip.

Punk just stared at the doctor incredulously, still a hint of glaring in his olive eyes. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he suddenly laughed out mirthlessly. "Now I'm stuck with someone who can't talk? What, is he a retard or something? Did the shit he was on make him stupid?"

"JUST SHUP UP PHILLIP!"

Both Punk and Dr. Helmsley turned at the sound of the new voice, which happened to belong to a very exasperated looking Dr. Shawn Michaels. The doc's blue eyes bore daggers into Punk's olive orbs, almost making the young man flinch. Everyone knew not to piss off Dr. Michaels.

Letting out a long sigh and running a hand over his face, Michaels turned to Helmsley and tried to soften his voice as to not upset anyone further. "Hunter, drag him out if you have to, we don't have all day for this. The nerve the poor kid built up is slipping by the second. Now he won't even let go of his brother."

Hunter nodded and turned back to Punk, a pleading look in his eyes. "Come on Punk. The quicker you cooperate, the quicker you can get it over with."

Although this did indeed make sense to Punk, the straightedge male was too stubborn to admit it. He stood slowly, never taking his eyes off of the two doctors. When he was fully standing, he turned his head to glance over at his two best friends who were still in the corner. A small smile threatened to tug at his lips as he saw Kofi, who was now smiling and curled up on Sheamus's lap. The large Irishman had his arms wrapped around Kofi's small frame protectively, and was also smiling. At the sight of this, Punk let out an over exaggerated sigh as he turned his head back around and motioned to the two doctors to lead the way.

This would either go extremely well or it would all go to hell. And from past experiences, Punk was betting on the latter. It was always the latter.

The ravenette slowly trudged behind the doctors out into the hallway, where his olive eyes immediately fell on a group of around seven men. But, out of the group, his eyes immediately focused on a boy with multi-colored hair. Said boy looked like he was scared half to death, emerald eyes filled with uncertainty and fear. He was wearing black fingerless gloves that matched his equally black painted fingernails. The kid was chewing on the sleeve of his long sleeved white shirt, which combined with baggy black pants made him look like he was too small to find something in his size. The paleness in the boy's face and bony cheek bones made one thing clear to Punk.

"Oh yeah, he's definitely a junkie," he moaned out loud as he rolled his eyes.

That earned him stares from everyone in the hallway, and glares from a large man with long brown hair and a smaller man with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He didn't care though, he was used to being glared at.

Dr. Michaels cleared his throat rather awkwardly as he nudged Dr. Helmsley, who was, in fact, Punk's primary doctor. "He's **your** patient. You say something, Hunter," he whispered harshly.

Hunter cleared his throat also as he thwacked Punk on the back of the head, earning a yelp and a harsh glare from the younger male. "You'll have to excuse Phillip, he's always straight forward and an asshole in the morning."

Punk slapped Hunter's arm hard in response. "Don't you call me by that name again, you bastard. And it's not just in the mornings either, and you damn well know that."

The large doctor just sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry. Please excuse **Punk** for being such a big baby and an asshole."

Said asshole growled lowly and shoved Hunter almost violently, which did nothing but satisfy Punk's need to shove something. "I am NOT a big baby, you giant fuck!" He crossed his tattooed covered arms across his chest, which was now puffed out defiantly. "I'm just too much for your sorry ass to handle."

This little confrontation came to an abrupt end at what seemed to be a small giggle from the red/blue/black haired boy, who was looking up at them with amused emerald eyes now instead of scared ones. This seemed to surprise everyone else, especially the group who had come with him, and that didn't go unnoticed by Punk.

"Oh, so you think that's funny?" The tattooed male stepped closer to the boy, his glare causing the boy to take a step back, but the smirk never faltered from that young face.

Dr. Michaels took a chance to speak up before he would allow Punk to do anything. "Punk, this boy is your new roommate. Jeffrey Nero Hardy." He sent a soft glance towards the boy and smiled. "Jeff, this is Phillip, but he'd probably go all bitchy on you if you called him that, so just call him Punk."

Punk scoffed loudly and rolled his olive eyes as he shook his head, causing his shoulder length black locks to sway as he heard the Jeff kid let out a tiny squeak of laughter. "Yep, just go ahead and laugh it up, kid. What are you, like five?"

This time, a short brunette spoke up, his voice authoritative despite his small stature. "Actually, Jeffro's nineteen."

This surprised Punk to no end, but he didn't let it show as he made sure to keep his face stone. The kid was a year older than him, yet he looked like he could pass for a fourteen year old, despite being Punk's same height. He rand a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. "How long have you been clean, kid?"

That made everyone in the small group of friends but Jeff stare at the straightedge man wide eyed. The rainbow haired male just cast his eyes to the floor, his face tinting red from embarrassment.

Shawn wanted to say something to Punk about not bringing that up now, but Hunter sent him a wary look, as if saying _It's better if this happens now rather than later. _So, he just let it run its course.

The male with the long, curly brown hair stepped forward to tower over Punk. "Why would you ask that kind of question, boy?"

The short brunette grabbed the larger man's bicep quickly. "Matt, don't.."

The man named Matt just continued to glare at Punk, which caused the tattooed ravenette to smirk. "I asked you a question, boy. Why would you ask my baby brother that?"

Punk glanced between Jeff and Matt. They looked nothing alike. At all. "Well, because I'm what is known to you people as 'straightedge', I just wanna make sure that your... baby brother over there isn't sneaking in any shit."

That was probably a wrong answer as he felt Matt's hand quickly encircle his tattooed throat. A small flashback made its way into his mind, and he physically tensed. This familiar sensation... All too familiar for Punk... Made him snap. He let out a loud growl as his mind became encased in the flashback, the real world dissolving from around him as his mind's eye only saw the scene of the past. Punk shoved Matt back with a strength that was not his own. He didn't see how the older man fell to the floor as he grabbed at his head and began clawing his neck, screaming and shaking horribly.

Dr. Helmsley was about to spring into action when he was stopped by Dr. Michaels, who noticed that the younger Hardy boy was slowly making his way towards Punk's convulsing form. Shawn had seen this once before in another patient. He saw Jeff make a connection with Punk when Jeff had noticed that Matt triggered something within Punk. He was hoping this could be the start of something for both Punk and Jeff.

Punk could somehow, through the screaming and shaking and past scene, sense a peaceful presence, which oddly felt similar to himself. He abruptly stopped screaming when he felt a small hand on his cheek. This had never happened before... No one, not even Hunter, Sheamus, or even Kofi, had been able to pull him out of a flashback. To say he was stunned would be a severe understatement. Punk lowered his hands from his now bleeding neck and opened his eyes slowly, glazed olive meeting shining emerald. He stared at Jeff's face, the boy's face soft with what didn't seem like pity, but compassion. To see this compassion instead of pity was almost a refresher to Punk. Oh, how he hated pity. He absolutely loathed it.

But...

That wasn't the only reason. Why had this rainbow haired druggie been able to pull him out of one of his flashbacks when no one else ever could? This both amazed and frustrated Punk. He then became aware that the Jeff kid had placed a hand on his cheek... And he was leaning into it. He recovered quickly and shook his cheek out of Jeff's grasp, his face instantly turning back to its normal, scowling self. He noticed that Jeff's face, however, remained compassionate, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Taking off his black muscle shirt and using it to stop the bleeding on his neck, Punk glanced around at the people in the hallway, then back to Jeff. "Y..You didn't answer my question," he murmured, trying to keep his voice steady. "How long have you been clean..?"

When nobody spoke up and Jeff gave him a tilt of that colored head, Punk growled and out of instinct, dropped the his bloodied shirt from his neck and began to sign to the boy, causing everyone but the doctors' eyes to widen considerably, especially those of Matt. '_So, are you deaf? Dumb? Did those drugs make you stupid?'_

This caused the small brunette standing next to Matt to send a nasty glare towards Punk and caused Jeff to actually smile slightly, which surprised everyone. He seemed to become attached to Punk pretty quick.

_He must not be such an asshole if Jeff's actually smiling_, Matt thought to himself.

Jeff, in turn, signed back: _'To answer your question, Phil, I've been clean for at least three years. I have no need or desire to go back.'_

Punk stared into Jeff's emerald eyes for a moment before nodding his head, seeming to be satisfied, not even realizing that he didn't become instantly pissed that the other had used his birth name.

After about five minutes of nothing but silence, it was Matt who decided to speak up first, clearing his throat. "So... You didn't tell us that you knew how to... Do that."

Punk just rolled his olive eyes and bent down to pick up his now bloodied black shirt, placing it against his neck once again. "You never thought to ask, you asshole."

The older Hardy rolled his chocolate brown eyes. "How do you even know sign? You don't look like-"

He was stopped short by Punk's glare, which could have instantly killed someone. "You have no right to judge me or say shit like that to me, do you understand?" When he earned a nod from the older Hardy, he continued with prompting from a nod from Hunter, his olive eyes falling to the floor. Shawn and Hunter were the only two who knew why and how he learned sign language, but now, that was about to change. "M-My sister was... Beaten and raped by my drunken father when she was younger... S-She lost her voice from being... throat fucked... so many times... From all of the tearing and scarring..." Punk had to stop for a minute as he tried to catch his breath, a flashback beginning to resurface. His breath hitched as he felt a familiar soft hand on his cheek. He looked up into Jeff's compassion filled emerald eyes, finding an odd sense of comfort in that. Taking a deep breath, the tattooed man continued. "I finally got fed up and snuck her to the hospital. When they found out she could never speak again, I opted to learn sign language with her so we could communicate. We... We were very close and-"

Punk felt Jeff move a finger to his lips, signaling that he didn't have to finish. He was actually thankful that Jeff had saved him from explaining the rest to complete strangers. He let out a long breath, running a hand through his black hair as he licked his lips.

Hunter decided to interrupt the silence that had grown and came to stand in front of Matt and the group of other men, making sure to talk quietly so as not to disturb the new roommates. "I think everything will be alright from now on. Now gentlemen, if you would set Jeffrey's bags down, I think you could slip out now while you still have the chance. You may come and visit him as often as you like within the visiting hours."

Punk didn't even hear the group slip out down the hallway, and he didn't care at this point. At this moment, he was captivated by the shining in Jeff's eyes. He really couldn't explain why... He just couldn't look away from the mute boy.

Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad thing after all...

Until Jeff found out what he really was...

Then everything would go to hell and never recover.

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**Alrighty everyone, this is sort of like a filler chapter to explain some things about Punk. I swear, more shall be revealed in time, and I guarantee, what I have planned for Punk's shall surprise you all (I hope). The chapters will cover a greater length of time after this one and I will strive to make them longer, as long as I feel like I'm not revealing too much in one chapter. Oh, and on a side note, I am actually debating on making Sheamus and Kofi possibly end up together in this story. I mean, with the way I have it set up, it works out beautifully. Sheamus being the brute and Kofi being all defenseless and naiive... Ohmaigawd. Anyways, please review with your thoughts on if I should indeed do the Sheamus/Kofi idea! Your criticism and advice is what keeps my muse going! Asta la pasta, my loves.**


	4. Hollow and Faceless

_**Along Came an Enigma**_

**Well, here we are again for Chapter 4 of my strange little story. I just noticed that I totally forgot to do a disclaimer. I facepalmed soooo many times that I had a bruise. Yup. Anyways, onward, to the story!**

**DISLCAIMER : I really don't own anything that has to do with the WWE or the lives of the superstars in this fic. If I did, the world of wrestling would never be the same again.**

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Punk rolled his eyes and laid back on his uncomfortable bed. He had decided himself that he would spend the rest of the day confined to his room, especially after that morning's outburst. He didn't feel embarrassed though. As a matter of fact, he never cared what people thought about him. Although, he did feel utterly exposed. It wasn't the kind of exposed that one experienced when caught naked either. That was only skin deep. Right now, Punk felt that the strange mute boy had torn apart his heart and soul and figured out what was inside.

He **really** loathed that feeling.

After the whole little fiasco earlier in the day, Punk had pretty much gone back to his scowling, asshole-ish self when he noticed that he had been standing there livid for about ten minutes under the older boy's gaze. He had growled and pretty much shrugged off Jeff as he quickly made his way back to his room, where he promptly slammed the door shut. He felt a bit bad after doing that because he wasn't sure if he scared the older boy, but Shawn and Hunter were still there, so that feeling quickly dissipated.

Older boy... That fact still surprised Punk to no end. The kid didn't look a day over fourteen or fifteen, yet here he was. One whole year older than Punk, with Jeff being nineteen and he eighteen.

The straightedge teen ran a hand through his black locks as he let out a long sigh, wincing a bit as he accidentally moved his head. His neck was still extremely raw and was covered in dried blood from where he dug into it. Hunter had come in a bit earlier and tried to drag him to a nurse, but he refused. Punk hated pretty much everyone in the damn place, with the exceptions of Kofi, Sheamus, and sometimes Hunter. So, seeing a nurse for medical attention was out of the question for him.

A few hours had passed and that's where he was now, gingerly bringing a hand up to feel the damage he had done to his own neck. He let out a small whimper as he quickly withdrew his hand from that area. _Damn, I can't even touch it now... _

Punk decided that sitting there sulking would be useless, so he made up his mind to get another shower, hoping that would help keep infection away. He quickly stripped of his pants and boxers and was about to step into the steaming hot shower when his olive eyes fell onto something he hadn't used in a long while...

A razor.

He had sneaked it in when he had first arrived at the hospital almost a two years ago. No one knew about it. Not even Hunter. No one would even guess he was a cutter because of his 'holier than thou' attitude. They knew nothing. He'd always been this way, growing up the way he did. Punk never cut on his arms or upper body because of his tattoos and the fact that he sometimes walked around shirtless. He was smarter than that. He cut on his legs, which were always covered by long pants. There were already so many scars on his legs that anyone who looked would think that the limbs went through some sort of grinder.

Without much debate, Punk grabbed the razor from the sink and stepped into the shower, immediately hissing under the scalding water. He closed his eyes for a few minutes before going to work on his legs with the razor, small groans escaping his lips all the while. He spent the next five minutes reopening and making new scars everywhere, relishing in the feeling and the sight of blood. He always did love the red liquid. Dangerously more so than what was normal. Punk then dropped the razor to the shower floor as he fell along with it, his body collapsing from the strain of the pleasure and pain.

This is why he did it. His mind was so distracted by the pain and the sight of his own blood that he didn't even begin to drift into another nightmare. He just sat there, motionless, as the water rolled down his body. Only when the water became icy cold did he stand up shakily and turn off the water. Quickly drying off and throwing back on his boxers and plaid pants, he made sure to pocket his razor, wondering why he was so careless by leaving it on the sink last time.

Punk sauntered back to his bed, careful not to move too quickly and reopen the scabs that were already beginning to form all over his legs. Just as he sat back down, he heard a light knocking on the door. He growled lowly before slowly making his way to the door. He was surprised to see a smiling Sheamus when he opened the door.

"Hey Sheamo," he rasped. "What's up?"

"You've been cooped up in 'ere all day, fella. Ya missed all da meals and sessions!"

Punk was not fazed by this. "So? When do I ever care? Why, what's up big guy?"

The Irishman's face lit up. "Ya might wanna come ta see this."

Now Punk was intrigued. He quickly went to grab a t-shirt before following Sheamus out, wondering what in the hell was so important. It had to be something good if it caught the Irishman's attention. Sheamus was not easily amused, so to see the large man smiling in amusement was a rare sight.

Sheamus led him down the hallway to the main therapy room, which was now pretty much empty because it was later in the evening. Upon approaching the room, Punk could hear soft giggles coming from the other side of the wall. When he cast Sheamus a confused look, the Irishman just smiled wider as he opened the door.

"Go ahead in, Punk. After you."

Said tattooed male slowly opened the door and stepped inside the large white room. His eyes immediately fell on Kofi, who was sitting curled up in the corner... Giggling. _Wait... Kofi's giggling? What the hell is going on here?_

Punk then immediately noticed the multi-colored hair that belonged to the person sitting in front of Kofi.

"Sheamo, what's going on?" he whispered to Sheamus.

"They've been at it for about an hour. Before then, the Viper went on a rampage. I tried ta stand up ta 'im, but Kofi started whimperin' and freakin' out. Even after we stopped, the poor boy just wouldn't stop shakin' and cryin'."

Punk immediately regretted not coming out of his room all day. He had abandoned his best friend without even a second thought.

At the crestfallen look on the ravenette's face, Sheamus continued. "I got 'im ta calm down a bit. I just held 'im and... ya know... cuddled with the lad a bit..."

A small smirk came to Punk's face at the sight of his friend's flushed cheeks. With Sheamus's ghostly white skin, it was easy to figure out when the guy was blushing.

"Has Kofi finally tamed the barbarian?" Punk mused.

Sheamus scoffed and feigned ignorance. "Shut up, ya arsehole. Anyway, the lad with the rainbow hair..."

"Jeff." Off Sheamus's confused look, Punk elaborated. "His name is Jeff..."

The Irishman smiled immediately. He had a sneaking suspicion growing in his mind about his friend. "Yeah, Jeff. The lad was quiet most of the day, and also began ta freak out when the fight almost took place. When everythin' got quiet like it normally does, he must have heard Kofi's cryin', because he immediately looked towards Kofi. That's when I moved in ta... cuddle... with Kofi..." He quickly cleared his throat before continuing. "I held him for maybe twenty minutes as everyone else left. I guess the Jeff lad sensed that Kofi was in serious trouble because he seemed to unwind and overcome his own turmoil to come over and try to comfort Kofi."

Punk glanced over at the two males in the corner, a soft look in his eyes despite the always present scowl on his face. Kofi was grinning widely and giggling softly as Jeff was seemingly making funny faces and hand gestures, a grin on his own face.

Sheamus smirked widely as he continued to recall the events. "The lad sat in front of us quietly for about five minutes before reachin' out and layin' a hand on Kofi's arm. When Kofi looked up, Jeff began makin' these funny faces. At first Kofi looked like he was gunna freak out again, but then he started laughin'. And they've been at it since then."

Punk let his face soften ever so slightly as the story came to an end. _This Jeff kid really is something else... _

"He's a year older than me."

Sheamus quirked an eyebrow at that. "What?"

"Jeff. He's a year older than me. Two years older than Kofi."

The Irishman was a bit taken aback by that information. "He's nineteen?" As Punk nodded, he coughed out a chuckle. "The boy doesn't look a day over fifteen, even though he has a bit of a height advantage on ya."

Punk scoffed and rolled his eyes as he shoved Sheamus playfully. "Shut up, you big pushover."

"Ph-Phil..!"

At the sound of his birth name, said male was about to kick somebody's ass until he recognized it to be Kofi's voice. His olive eyes drifted over to the pair in the corner, and had to consciously suppress a smile. Kofi was in between giggles as he motioned shyly for Punk to come over. Jeff, who was sitting cross legged in front of the African, just stared at Punk with soft emerald eyes and a small grin on his lips.

Punk cleared his throat before slowly making his way towards the two in the corner. He let out a sigh as he plopped down next to Jeff, trying not to wince from the pain shooting up his still sore legs. "Hey buddy. This new kid bothering you?"

Kofi grinned a bit at that. "N-Not at all." The dark boy looked up and his deep brown eyes lingered on Sheamus, who was still standing by the door.

Despite the boy's dark skin, Punk could clearly see that Kofi had the faintest blush on his face. On the other hand, there was Sheamus, who could do nothing to hide the red from his pasty white complexion. That made Punk roll around on the floor and start laughing, causing Jeff and Kofi to jump.

"Oh my god Sheamo, you look like a fucking tomato!"

The Irishman glared at his friend. "Oi, shaddup! I do not!"

"I'm serious! You really do! Oh my god!"

"Knock it off Punk."

"C'mon Sheamo! Where's your sense of fun?"

"I SAID KNOCK IT OFF, YA BASTARD!"

The absolute loudness and authority in the Irishman's voice caused a freezing effect in the whole room. Punk sat up with confusion on his face, Jeff just stared wide eyed, and Kofi was already beginning to shake and tear up.

Punk couldn't believe it. Sheamus had never gotten that mad at him before. Shit, did he screw up bad. He knew he was the cause of the large man's outburst, and he was mentally kicking his own ass for it, especially at the now distraught Kofi, who was being cooed to and comforted by Jeff.

He knew he should apologize, but being the asshole that he was, just scoffed and stood abruptly, his olive eyes glaring into the Irishman's light blue ones. He ignored the pain in his legs for the time being, taking only a moment before he stormed out of the room, leaving the other three to fend for themselves. When he burst into the hallway, he then heard a shuffling behind him and felt a hand encircle his wrist. The ravenette turned to see Jeff, his emerald eyes pleading and filled with sadness. Punk became so easily lost in them... He couldn't understand... What was it about this rainbow haired man that made his defenses suddenly want to drop to the ground?

After a minute, Punk finally lost it. "What?! What do you want?!" He ripped his wrist away forcefully. "What is it about you?! What do you do that makes me feel so exposed?! Huh?!"

He only received a stare from sparkling eyes filled with compassion and what seemed to be understanding.

He couldn't take it. That look, those eyes... Staring into his soul... He growled angrily and took off to his room, where he barricaded himself in for the rest of the night, leaving a wide eyed Jeff behind.

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One week had passed, and Punk had stayed cooped up in his room, still not even coming out for meals. What was the point? He didn't want to face either of those three, especially not Kofi. It had been Punk's fault that the boy had gotten scared by Sheamus. Hell, he'd even ignored Jeff when the boy came into their room after the days were over. The rainbow haired man would try and get his attention, but Punk would have none of that. He decided that it'd be best if he'd be isolated and keep his damn mouth shut.

It was the evening of the seventh day of his isolation, and Punk was now sitting on his bed after he had just gotten his second shower. He'd been craving the hot water and his recently rediscovered razor, the scars now deeper and more bountiful then they had ever been before. There was literally no more room left on his legs to make fresh cuts, but he didn't mind. As long as there was pain, he would focus on that and not on the fact that every night, Jeff would stare holes into him as he tried to keep to himself.

Over the course of the week, Punk had noticed that Jeff looked significantly healthier. There was color back in his skin, a slight bounce to his step, and the kid looked like he now could weigh as much if not more than Punk now. That combined with the slight height advantage on Punk made Jeff now look his age. Also, the different colors in Jeff's hair were beginning to fade, and Punk had noticed that the man was a natural blond under all that dye.

_Goes better with his shining emerald eyes..._

Punk scoffed and angrily threw his pillow across the room, where it silently smacked the wall before it plopped to the wooden floor. That was another problem. Why the hell was he thinking about Jeff so much? _He's a mute and an ex druggie, he's nothing special..._

_Yeah, right. That's why you can't stop thinking about him..._

"Shut up!" the tattooed boy yelled as he gripped his black hair, trying to silence the voices in his head.

_Why? Because you know I'm right? You want him to fuck you, just like you used to want from all those other men, you slut..._

"I SAID SHUT THE HELL UP!" Punk shook his head violently, his nails digging into his scalp.

_You haven't changed, Phillip. Even after all these years, I'm still here. I'll never be gone..._

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Blood rushed down the side of his head and down his neck, but he didn't care. The voice needed to stop, before he was lost in his past once again.

_I'm a part of you. I have been since you were a child._

Punk's body wracked with violent shaking as he tried to hold in his tears. "Daddy..." he whimpered. "Please go away... I'll be a good boy. I promise, please just leave me alone..."

_You'll never be alone in your mind, boy. I became a part of you when I took you._

The tears finally broke through the floodgates of Punk's eyes. The ravenette's hands, now red with his own blood, covered his ears as hard as he could as his body hunched forward in a sitting fetal position.

All those horrible memories.

The terror.

The burning.

The excruciating physical and mental pain of one memory in particular stood out.

They were invading his mind yet again. He could feel it. It was... So real.

Was it real this time?

As the pain began to consume his body, Punk screamed. He screamed until he felt the muscles in his throat begin to tear again. Oh god, this pain was worse than all the others... It felt like it was happening for real... All over again...

_xxxxxxxxxx_

_A nine year old Phillip Brooks shook with fear of the impending punishment, whatever it may be. He was currently curled up in his bedroom closet, hoping his dad was drunk enough to forget that he always hid here. He had been in there for around 4 hours now, waiting anxiously for his father to go on the daily rampage after Phil would accidentally bad mouth him. _

_Oh, how Phil wished he could stop himself, but sometimes, his temper would just cloud his mind. He didn't mean to... It just came out most of the time in the form of raw, hard truth._

_The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut caused the young boy to wince and clench his eyes shut. Although, instead of the sound of only his father's voice, there apparently seemed to be four other voices along with the old man's. This both alarmed yet sent a sense of relief through Phil. Maybe if there were more people around, his dad wouldn't try anything, and he could find a possible way to escape this hellhole. _

_That relief was short-lived. Too short-lived._

_The door to the closet was suddenly thrown open, causing Phil to let out a loud yip of surprise. There, in front of him, stood his dad, along with the four men he'd heard come in. Confusion passed through those young, tear stained olive eyes as he noticed something familiar about each of these men, but he just couldn't place it._

_As suddenly as the door was opened, Phil's dad was grabbing him roughly by both of his arms. He was drug kicking and fighting out of the closet and thrown on his bed, a sense of dread in his young eyes. One of the men quickly tied a blindfold around Phil's head, causing the young boy to thrash about wildly. It took the other three men and his father to hold him down long enough to get his limbs tied to each of the bed posts, rendering the boy helpless._

_Now, all Phil could do was listen. And they were all drunk, he just knew it._

"_This kid is even more feisty than your other one," one man said._

"_Yeah, sorry about that. I took care of that child a while ago," his father responded. "He shouldn't be much trouble now that he's tied down."_

"_You said he's still a-"_

"_I can guarantee you he is. I made sure of that."_

"_Can we get started now? I'm gunna explode here soon," another man said._

_His father chuckled darkly. "I want to take him first, and then y'all can have a turn."_

"_Well just hurry up. I don't wanna sit here and jack off all day," yet another one said._

_Phil couldn't believe it. This was really happening. He wished to whatever power that was that he would be able to find some way out of this situation.  
_

_But just like always, his thoughts and prayers were not answered. They never were._

_He shivered and inhaled sharply as he felt the cold air from his clothes literally being ripped off of him by a few pairs of hands. The boy tried to struggle, but that just earned him slaps and punches from the hands of the men on him._

_This couldn't be happening. This had to be a nightmare. But that was too good to be true. It always was._

_Phil screamed loudly as he felt something penetrate his body. The groan he heard after that... It sounded like his father... No... It couldn't be..._

"_Damn Phil, so fucking tight."_

_But it was. It always came back to him. Phil couldn't deal with this. His own father was ripping him away from the only thing he still held dear. _

_His virginity._

_The boy was not spared even though his cries of pain echoed everywhere and tears streamed down his face through the blindfold. His cries were, in fact, cut short as he felt something large and wet insert itself into his young mouth, followed by his hands being made to stroke two more of them._

_The pain was so intense that Phil felt himself fading quickly._

"_You might want to get used to this, Phillip," he heard his father groan between thrusts. "This will be happening more often than you think."_

_And for that time, those were the last words he heard before his mind numbed itself, never to be truly pulled out._

_xxxxxxxxxx_

Punk woke up to the light of the room bursting through the darkness. He groaned and tried to sit up, but he couldn't find the energy to do so. When his brain began working its way out of the grog, he noticed that he couldn't even move if he wanted to. He tried to lift his wrists, but they were restrained down by his sides to the bed. _Oh great, I've been restrained... Again._

The straightedge male sighed loudly and felt the bandages that were around his head, neck, and arms. He shifted his legs, and released a relieved breath when he felt they had been untouched. Nobody had found out... Thank goodness.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard shuffling from the other side of the room. He turned his head and was met with the familiar sight of emerald eyes and fading colored hair.

"Jeff..?"

The man smiled softly and nodded. He did indeed now look healthier than Punk at this point. Jeff reached over and placed a gentle hand on Punk's head, his face contorting with worry at how hoarse Punk sounded.

The ravenette snorted and shook his head. "I'll be fine. Stop looking at me like that."

Jeff giggled silently and shifted himself in the chair he was sitting on next to Punk's bed, but didn't get up.

Punk sent Jeff a quirked eyebrow. "Did you... Stay with me the whole time..?"

Jeff nodded and ran one of his hands through Punk's silky hair in a gesture of concern and affection. He had been the first person to run in and respond to the raven haired man's screaming.

_'As soon as I heard you screaming, I came running,'_ Jeff signed, a sad smile on his lips. _'I tried to calm you down, but you just kept screaming and hurting yourself. So I got Hunter and Shawn to come and help you.'_

Punk sighed and kept his eyes on Jeff's face. Why had the man responded first? Why did he even care? He noticed that it was dark outside, and he wondered how much time had passed.

"How long was I out?"

_'Around five hours. It's two in the morning.'_

Punk rolled his eyes and cleared his dry throat. "Why are you sitting here with me? Why do you even care?"

Jeff just smiled widely and ran his hand through Punk's hair once again. _'Try and get some more sleep. I'll be right here, I promise.'_

Finding himself to still be too weak to protest, the younger man nodded and closed his eyes, finding a strange comfort in Jeff's words.

One way or another, he would find out why the older man cared so much, when no one else ever did.


	5. An Act of Desperation

_**Along Came an Enigma**_

_Four days... He hasn't woken up in four days..._

Those were the words going through Jeff's head as soon as he woke up that morning and was met with the tattooed boy's limp, sickly form, which wasn't bound anymore since there had been no more incidents. The now blond man had stayed and slept in a chair by Phil's bedside since the night he found the boy screaming and self harming. He now knew how his brother Matt felt when he had helped Jeff go through withdrawal from years of drug use. Jeff felt sorry for the poor boy, even though he didn't know quite how to handle this situation. He figured that it wasn't quite that different from withdrawal, but he knew it wasn't the exact same either. Phil obviously hadn't ever done drugs, so this was something else entirely. What exactly had this poor boy been put through in order for his brain to cause his body to do something like this? Jeff hoped in all that he held dear that Phil hadn't been put through the same things he went through, but when he thought back to what the boy had been screaming and the extent of his self inflicted injuries, it must have been something just as bad, if not worse.

Jeff brought his knees up to his chest and chewed on the sleeve of his long sleeved purple shirt. Dr. Helmsley and Michaels had to resort to a feeding tube for Phil since the poor boy hadn't had any kind of nutrition in god knew how long. Jeff was almost scared to leave Phil's side in fear that he'd die when he wasn't there. Hunter and Shawn had graciously allowed Jeff to stay at bedside and brought him all his meals on a try from the cafeteria, and he was truly thankful for such kind doctors in a place like this.

Today would be different though. He could only imagine how Sheamus and Kofi were feeling about this. The poor African man was probably in hysterics and the large Irishman was most likely blaming himself. So, that's why Jeff would make it a point to go out for a bit and try to get the two men to visit their friend, hoping that maybe their presence would help Phil come out of whatever state his mind was in.

And then, there was the question that Phil had asked right before his mind slipped into the stupor. Why did he care? Why would Jeff possibly care about someone like him? Well, that just made the blond smile to himself. Not only did he see a bit of himself in Phillip, but it seemed to Jeff that the boy had no one else in the whole world to care for him. He was so busy with looking out for Sheamus and Kofi, that Jeff could imagine that Phil needed at least one person similar to himself to be strong for him. Now, Jeff knew he was far from perfect, but he had tons of people around him to help him be strong for him when he needed someone, especially Matt. But Phil was all alone, and Jeff had picked up a lot of strength from his brother and saved it just for a time like this. Plus there was the issue of the fuzzy feeling in his chest when he had first laid eyes on the young raven haired male. Those olive eyes once full of defiance and authority, now probably jaded over and dulled...

Jeff shook his head and pulled down his black flannel pants to cover his ankles, banishing those negative thoughts. Phil would pull through. He was too stubborn to quit. Jeff uncurled himself and leaned forward to press a kiss to Phil's forehead. _I'll be back soon, Philly, _he said in his head before reluctantly getting up and shuffling out the door to the main hallway. He stood there timidly, looking around for any sign of anyone.

_They must be having the early morning session..._

Deciding that was the most logical possibility, the blond shuffled quietly down the hall, his bare feet padding against the marble floor. He looked into Hunter's office on the way, and sure enough, it was empty. The duo must have been busy in another wing. He continued quickly and quietly down the hallway until he came to the main session room, which he hadn't seen in four days. He sighed softly as he stood outside the glass door, noticing that the main groups of men was in there, but this time, it was Sheamus who was in the corner cuddled up with Kofi. He smiled and almost reconsidered going to get them, but then remembered that they were probably worried sick.

Jeff knocked softly before slowly entering the room, all eyes, except Kofi's of course, falling on him. This is where he would normally get nervous and crawl into a shell, but he couldn't afford to do that. He just kept his face neutral as he shuffled his way over to the corner, ignoring the stares from Orton and Cena especially. Orton always seemed to stare at him like he was a piece of meat, icy blue eyes soulless while Cena leered at him without shame. It had taken him days in order to control the shiver that would shake his body because of their eyes.

The sight of Kofi cuddled on Sheamus's lap in the corner lightened Jeff's mood slightly. The large Irishman smiled at Jeff sadly, and the blond could tell that both of them were indeed worried as he knelt down in front of the two.

"'Ey, fella. Haven't seen ya in a while," Sheamus whispered.

Jeff nodded and reached out a hand to slowly place it on Kofi's cheek, lifting the small man's head to meet those timid brown eyes.

"He's been worried sick, lad. He hasn't smiled in days." Sheamus growled under his breath and closed his eyes, breathing heavily. "It's all my fault... If I hadn't snapped..."

Oh, that needed to stop before it even started. Jeff reached his other hand up to cup Sheamus's chin, his emerald eyes hard. The Irishman couldn't afford to sit here and play the blame game. He needed to learn to be strong for Phil.

Sheamus nodded, seeming to get the message. "Yer right, fella. Can we see him..?"

Jeff nodded, breathing a sigh of relief that he was spared the trial of trying to explain why he had come. He looked back to Kofi, who now had a bit of light back in those brown eyes. Jeff stood up and grabbed the African's hand, gently pulling the younger boy up. All three males ignored the stares of the group as they stalked out of the therapy room, the blond leading the way to where Phil was now being cared for.

Jeff stopped right in front of the door, turning around to face his two new friends. He put a finger up to his lips as a sign for them to remain quiet. He didn't know why, but he thought it would be respectful to Phil all the same. He slowly opened the door and snuck in quietly, the sight breaking his heart all over again. He couldn't imagine how Sheamus and Kofi were feeling when their eyes came to rest on Phil's limp form, still bound to the bed.

At first, they were both completely frozen right inside the room. After a minute, Sheamus's heavy breathing picked up immensely, his large fists balling at his sides, and Kofi started sniffling, tears beginning to form. Jeff sighed quietly and carefully took Kofi's hand in his own, leading the smaller boy over to the chair at Phil's bedside. Sheamus followed suit, his arms shaking.

Jeff sat the African boy in the chair carefully, making sure to keep physical contact. The poor boy looked heartbroken, tears now streaming down his face and soft sobs shaking his small form. Jeff fought to keep his own tears back as he took Kofi's hand and cautiously laid it on Phil's. He then turned around to Sheamus with a soft look, beckoning the large Irishman over to do the same. Sheamus knelt down next to Kofi and laid his huge white hand over both of theirs.

"Punk... I'm sorry, fella... I shouldn't have snapped... Please, come back... We need ya..."

Jeff removed his hand from underneath of Sheamus's and moved back further into the room, shoving his hands in the pockets of his flannel pants as he cast his emerald eyes down to the floor. He was too apprehensive to leave the room, but he wanted to give them at least a little privacy. They had indeed known Phil way longer than he had, after all.

"Ph-Phil..."

Jeff felt his heart almost shatter in his chest at the whimper, making him grab himself near where his heart was. Kofi... The poor boy was probably dying inside. The blond man glanced up from the floor and let out a silent whimper of his own as he shuffled quietly to take his place on the other side of Kofi. He fought hard to keep back his own tears at the sight of the fresh tears practically pouring down the African boy's cheeks. Jeff knelt down beside Kofi and took Kofi's free hand in his own.

"Phil please... I-It's scary out here without you..." Kofi whispered.

Right after his words, a small whimper came from Phil's lips and his body began shaking violently, causing the three men to jump back in surprise. It was only after they recover did Jeff lean forward and notice small tears leaking from the corners of Phil's eyes. He ran a gentle hand through raven locks as he kept his emerald eyes trained on Phil's face.

"What the bloody feck is goin' on?"

Jeff lifted his eyes to glance at Sheamus, the Irishman standing a ways away and holding a wide eyed Kofi to his expansive chest. Jeff took one look at the youngest boy and then shook his head to Sheamus, waving his hand to signal that they should go.

That didn't sit too well with Sheamus, especially when everyone notice Phil's shaking worsen and his whimpers getting louder. "But look at 'im! We should be here in case.."

But Jeff would have none of that. His face hardened and the light in his eyes darkened as he stood up and sent a desperate glare to Sheamus. He pointed to Kofi, hoping Sheamus would get the point.

It seemed to work. The red head blinked and let out a long sigh before nodding reluctantly. "Yea yea, I get ya. Just... Take good care of 'im, alright?"

Jeff sent Sheamus a look that said 'duh, what do you think I've been doing for the past four days'. After the two left, Jeff sat down on his chair beside Phil's bed, grabbing the boy's clammy, weak hand in his own. He ran his thumb over Phil's limp knuckles, his brows furrowed as the whimpering and shaking coming from Phil didn't cease.

_How I wish my mind and body would let me talk to you, _Jeff thought as he kept his eyes trained on Phil's agony stricken face. _What's all happened to you, Phillip? What have you been put through to make you like this..? _He reached his other hand up and placed it on Phil's forehead, his emerald eyes filled with curiosity and concern. His brows furrowed in frustration, wishing upon anything at all that his mind and body would allow him to open his mouth and call out to Phil, just once. It had been so long...

That's when he noticed Phil beginning to thrash about. Violently. Jeff was now frightened out of his mind. What was he supposed to do? He tried to hold the younger man down, but with Phil being in an unconscious state, he was stronger than him. Jeff covered his mouth with his hands and inhaled sharply when Phil shot straight up into a sitting position, a silent scream coming from the young man's wide open mouth. Jeff fisted his own hair and bit his lip as Phil began scratching his tattooed arms, blood flowing and drowning out the colors of the ink instantly...

And all Jeff could do was stare helplessly... Unless he somehow found it within himself to get his goddamn mouth to work. He wanted so desperately to call out to Phil, hoping to snap the boy from his nightmare. Small tears slid down his cheeks as he tried to open his mouth, desperate to override the fear of the action.

When he noticed Phil now digging his hands into his head and blood beginning to flow down that pained face, that was the last draw. Jeff climbed up out of the chair and hopped onto the bet on top of Phil's legs. He took a deep, shaky breath before placing his hands on each one of Phil's bloody, tear stained cheeks. He needed to do this. He just had to.

Jeff couldn't stop his tears of frustration as he attempted to part his lips, but he couldn't get over his fear. It did calm his heart a bit when he noticed that Phil had stopped shaking and harming himself because of Jeff's hands on his cheeks. Jeff also noticed something else then, too.

Phil's eyes were open.

But they were so glazed over that they looked almost like zombified eyes. Tears were freely flowing from those hazy olive orbs, and that broke down all of the walls of fear inside of Jeff as the blond man stroked Phil's cheeks with his thumbs.

He then did it. This would probably be the last time, but he was determined to do it just this once.

"Phillip..." Jeff said hoarsely, surprised by the sound of his own voice. "Phillip, open your eyes. Come back to me, please. We need you here..."

They then shut once again. He pursed his lips so tight that they were turning white. He couldn't believe he actually did it. After years and years of silence, he had gotten the courage to open his mouth. And all because of this strange connection to this broken boy underneath him.

It was then that Phil's eyes began to clear from the haze, and Jeff's tears turned into joyful ones. He quickly hopped off of the bed and back into his chair, taking Phil's bloody hands in his own.

_That's it, Philly... Come back to me, please..._

As soon as Phil's eyes were all the way clear, Jeff placed a gentle hand back on Phil's bloody cheek. He expected the boy to pull back, but he didn't, which was a good sign. Actually, it seemed that Phil was almost comforted by the touch, and that lifted Jeff's heart.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Phil sighed tiredly and collapsed back onto the bed. Jeff was quick, though. He caught Phil quickly and eased the boy back onto the bed, being wary of his damaged arms and head. Once he was sure Phil was settled, he sat back on the chair, his eyes attentive.

"I heard you..." the raven haired boy stated as he slowly turned his head to face Jeff, the blood and tears beginning to dry on his face.

Jeff was caught off guard by the statement, and he blinked multiple times.

"I just know it was you... Because I saw your face when I heard it..."

Jeff stretched a hand over and ran it softly through Phil's blood caked hair as the boy seemed to be in some sort of shock.

"Did you really talk? Was it really you..?"

After a moment of hesitation, Jeff nodded slowly, his hand coming to stop on top of Phil's hair.

Phil took a shaky breath and looked at him with desperate eyes. "How are you able to get through..? Everyone else just can't, but then there's you... Even when I first met you, you were able to stop my mind... What is it about you, Jeff? Huh?"

There, that was his Phil. Jeff smiled slightly before signing to Phil. '_It was an act of desperation, so that was most likely a one time deal.'_

That seemed to both satisfy and frustrate Phil. "Why won't you talk, Jeff..?"

_'Curiosity killed the cat, Philly,' _Jeff signed as he chuckled.

Phil groaned and rolled his eyes a bit. "Great, I wake up to a modest southern boy equipped with wonderful cliches," he muttered.

That elicited a small giggle from said southern boy. _'Get some peaceful rest, yankee. I'll be here when you wake up.'_

"I don't know why, but alright."

Jeff smiled softly as he watched Phil drift off into a peaceful sleep, hoping his presence would indeed help keep the boy's mind at peace while he slept. He looked over at the clock on the wall. _It's only ten in the morning... It's gunna be a long day..._

* * *

**Well, I feel horrible. It's been over a month since I posted a new chapter. I hope y'all haven't given up on me! I love this story. I just have trouble transferring what's in my head onto paper. But I did it! Please leave me your thoughts and suggestions! **

**On a quick note, I used Punk's real name in this chapter because it was mainly from Jeff's point of view, and that's how it will be from now on. And don't worry, more will be revealed about both Punk's and Jeff's pasts. Plus I'm planning for a Hardy family and friends visit! I hope y'all are still with me!  
**


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